


What a Waster, What ‘Amelia’ did

by maessyfics



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Daycare, F/M, M/M, Single Father, eventual, face - Freeform, male abuse survivor, not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22655143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maessyfics/pseuds/maessyfics
Summary: To be continued... this chapter even. Just don’t read if you prefer binge reads, but if you do read this little tid bit, feedback is appreciated and useful!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	What a Waster, What ‘Amelia’ did

Gently, he smoothed a hand over the boy’s mop of honey blonde hair, still silky from the morning’s wash but in a bit of a tangled mess from tossing and turning in his sleep. His belly rising and falling under his Spider-Man one-piece pyjamas, his tiny hands wrapped around Steve, the baby blanket bear hybrid his mother had gotten him when she was initially attached. One chubby cheek is squished against his arm beneath his head and his thin pink lips are parted ever so slightly. Arthur notices how they curl into a little smile and Arthur assumes he’s having a good dream - he very much hopes that he is. 

Perhaps the one about the dinosaurs in that bucket or the superhero one at the bus stop. Or maybe it’s a new one, a new drawing for the fridge. Somehow, he looks forward to hearing about it, almost sure it’ll probably be the nicest thing to come out of tomorrow. In his youth, he might have found that sort of thinking sappy, a bit pathetic even, but now Arthur often finds himself doting over his son this way. When things are finally quiet and still, and when he can finally get a good look at the day’s damage. 

Everyday his baby boy grows a little more. Shouting out a new words in the supermarket - a bit of a lottery, always an embarrassment still. The strange faces he’d pull after trying a new food. Making new stubborn decisions after the other, because ice cream before dinner does, theoretically, make sense if you think about it, or so Arthur’s been told. 

‘Not too old yet though,’ Arthur thanks the lord, ‘not old enough to be asking the wrong questions.’ For as much as it makes his stomach churn, and as bad it is for Arthur’s teeth with the absent grinding at her mention, for as long as Alfred stays forgiving and hopeful, it’s only his health and safety Arthur has to worry about. Which at the moment, working full time for nothing, is hard enough as it is.

The slam of the front door signals to Arthur its time to leave his son to sleep. He seems to be deeply out of it, and Arthur is glad he took her patterns into consideration when creating ‘bedtime’.  
Sighing, he pulls the covers over the boy’s shoulders and leans over him, sweeping away some hair and kissing his forehead lightly. Then he switches off the light and leaves, making sure to the leave the door open on the crack to allow slither of light inside, just incase Alfred does wake up. 

He doesn’t even have to look up from his feet to know what’s happening. It’s usually only one a few things that play out every night. 

‘Money.’ She slurs, reaching out a slender arm and gripping against the wall blindly to steady herself. ‘Have we, have we got any? Any, more?’ With drawn out emphasis on the more, to the point where if it was a one time thing, Arthur might have found her drunk tendencies hilarious. But he didn’t. 

‘What, so you can buy the next round? How thoughtful. Unfortunately, no, there isn’t any. Not for you anyway. Maybe you’ll just have to come to bed, like a normal person at this hour.‘

‘You’re not asleep now!’ she countered, ‘You see, you see you just insulted yourself that’s - you’re funny, James would like you.’ She blabbered.

‘I bet he would, after all, he was my best mate in college. And you’d know that as you were there. Ringing any bells?’ He spat, out of petty habit but with no real venom anymore. The blonde just shook her head dumbly before slowly removing her hand from its position on the wall, which had left a sweaty mark. 

‘I think. I think I’m going to check on my son. He must have missed me.’

Those were the exact words Arthur had not wanted to hear tonight. It was going to be a long night.

————————————————

The bruise had come about over the course of the night. It was difficult to rationalise this time, that it wasn’t that bad, especially with the way the purple swirled into sickly greens and how it stood out against Arthur’s pale, already hollowed cheeks. He examined himself in the mirror: unnourished sandy blonde hair; shrinking, spindly frame; chapped lips a raw red. What was he going to say to Afonso? All of this trouble, just so they could get some sleep the night before.

Parading around the apartment without a care, dancing along to his own tune, Alfred was supposedly getting dressed.  
‘Socks! S-o-c-k-s! You need two for a pair! One would get lonely, and that’s not fair! S-o-c-k-s! Daddy hates it when I put them on odd but I don’t care, SOCKS!’ He shouted a little too loud at the last bit for Arthur’s morning senses, making him wince and then grimace. 

Grabbing the boy’s little backpack off the counter he ushered the child into the doorway to get his shoes on, so they could leave as soon as. Alfred was difficult in a lot of ways, and caused all sorts of unnecessary dramas in the morning, but Arthur counted himself lucky that boy loved daycare, for some reason. If Alfred was as high-strung about daycare as he was other aspects of his life, much like his father, Arthur would be struggling more than he would like to imagine. Which is why, on their walk to daycare, Arthur prays a little that Alfred doesn’t catch on that this isn’t the same daycare he normally goes to, prays that he doesn’t catch on until Arthur leaves for work at least.


End file.
